How Fate Intended by hoboheartache on ao3

60. Don't Shoot the Messenger

"You think I'm capable of giving relationship advice? Who exactly do you take me for?"

Harry grumbled, his cheek in one palm as he slouched against the couch. "You're a better option than what I've got, which is my own malfunctioning brain and considerable lack of knowledge in relationships. And you've got a... face, I bet the ladies and lads fall over themselves like hungry wolves to get a piece of you on the daily, you've got to have some sort of knowledge bouncing around up there."

Theo rolled his eyes, placing a well-worn bookmark into his most recent obsession, which appeared to be something about alchemy. Harry glared at the book and then the boy holding it, this bastard really had to stop figuring things out.

"Listen mate, I'm about as approachable on a good day as you are on a bad one, I'll admit that I've-what did you call it? Got a face? Yea, I've got one, but I'm not finding all that much use out of it."

Harry resisted the urge to point out Tracey's apparent obsession with his hair, or Luna's almost constant presence, not wanting to deal with the ensuing rant about all the reasons neither of them are interested in him-Harry had heard it far too many times already.

"Well you've had to have read books on the psychology behind romance, maybe you could point me in that direction? I'd likely find more use out of something like that anyhow."

"I haven't, and I don't want to become your own personal library directory, so if you're really that interested in psychology, you can go find something yourself."

Harry had left the conversation annoyed and bookless, too stubborn to actually look for something useful in the library but still wanting to be mad about it. Looking about the dorm room in which he now sat, Harry found himself feeling stifled.

Huffing, he fell off of his bed, muttering something about taking a walk to Draco before throwing on his cloak and disappearing from sight.

"Be back before dinner."

"Yes mum."

"Oh sod off."

He chucked, pulling the door open and closed slowly while making 'OooOOOooooOooo' noises as he did so. Draco finally looked up from his parchment, watching the door move on its own accord with an unimpressed look on his face.

"You're such a muggle sometimes, you know that Potter? Now get out of here before I try and throw a shoe at you."

"Yea yea I'm going."

Sirius was also a matter of... serious debate around Hogwarts, as the burnt corpse from the shrieking shack had indeed been 'confirmed' to be his. Harry highly suspected that Fudge or another equally idiotic politician had given the forensic department a hefty raise to say that it was Sirius. Considering the amount of burnt fat on the corpse, Harry doubted anyone in the underfunded department actually believed it. As it was, Sirius being a dead man actually gave him a lot of leeway later on in life, and Harry wanted to hunt the bastard down at some point during the next few months to have a long chat about how to properly dispose of a body, among other things. Harry didn't expect the man to be easy to find, but (as he was slowly learning) the more he gave in to the wendigo's wants the easier it became to use it's powers. He was already employing those abilities in several different ways, the most notable attempt being the first of December, when he finally managed to control the weather without needing to be in the throes of a near-death experience. He hadn't been quite positive that it would work, but was absolutely floored when it did, and spent many of his extra hours with the time turner attempting other things. He had gotten awfully decent at weather manipulation, and had been using that to make it as cold as he liked outside, mostly because he was still feeling vindictive against Sirius and that the colder it was the more comfortable he felt. Voice mimicry was slow going, as he couldn't just think of the person and speak, he had to either know their voice well enough to replicate it, or have eaten their voice box. Because of this rather unfortunate requirement (which was likely due to his own human magic holding him back, as wendigo were not known to have that kind of weakness), he had only managed to fully mimic Draco and Pettigrew's voices, which didn't do much for him except amusement at making Draco's voice admit he was short.